


Starlight

by Thestarlitrose



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 03:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: A Prompt Fill: "Starlight" and “Angst: We can never be together Kiss”A shared kiss under the stars in 1862 during a business trip leaves Aziraphale and Crowley hopelessly pining for the other, knowing that unless heaven and hell is out of the way, they can never be together.Fast forward to the apocalypse and they finally get their chance.





	Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fill from someone in the Ace Omens discord. 
> 
> “Starlight” and “Angst: We can never be together Kiss”
> 
> Not beta'd.

The day was warm for this time of year. The early autumn air was cool in the mornings but sweltering by mid-afternoon. The leaves had yet to fully change into their reds and oranges. 

Aziraphale and Crowley were making their way towards Blackford; a small town near Edinburgh, in a private carriage. It wasn't often they had the option or reason to travel in the same direction, much less in the same carriage. However, on this occasion; they’d both been assigned the same job. 

It made sense to travel together and the likelihood of Heaven or Hell noticing was slim to none. 

Heaven needed Aziraphale to make sure a young man by the name of Thomas took the path of righteousness. He would be an important asset if they were able to acquire him on their side.

Similarly, Hell needed Crowley to make sure a young man by the name of Thomas took the path of wickedness. He would prove to be an important asset if they were able to acquire him on their side.

Once reaching out to the other as per their agreement, both realized it would be much easier to travel together and stay in the same inn. Business would work itself out as it always does, human nature would prevail, and they could have a nice dinner afterward. They would return to London and get on with their separate lives, tempting, and thwarting, or in Crowley's case; sleeping.

The carriage was smaller than either had anticipated, and the entire journey was spent in a cramped space where it was nearly impossible not to touch the other. Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale was comfortable. 

Being pressed against the other, regardless of how strong their willpower, was waning. 

Crowley’s patience was wearing incredibly thin, the divine scent of the angel permeated the enclosed carriage. His warmth seeping into his cool flesh and the feeling of occasional skin brushing skin as Aziraphale turned the page of his novel was unbearable. 

He glanced at the angel, he never could quite properly capture in his mind the way Aziraphale glowed, even on the cloudiest of days. He expelled holiness and kindness. He was the best of all angels in Crowley's humble opinion. He allowed his love for her to guide him, unworried about plans and winning. Aziraphale only wanted to make his divine mother pleased, the plans were not for him to decipher, it was ineffable. Only she knew the plans and he was quite pleased to follow his heart to do good here on Earth.

He’d been blessed to be allowed in his presence. Lost in thought, Crowley failed to realize he’d been staring at the angel unabashedly.

They hit a particularly deep hole and the resulting bounce caused his glasses to fall from his face and shatter. His yellow eyes met ocean blue. The remnants of his long-burned heart jumped in his throat and he quickly looked away.

The angel continued to stare at his friend, his dearest Crowley. It was strange for him to think of a demon as a friend, as someone he could implicitly trust, but he did. Crowley made this long life bearable, allowed him to have a companion and confidant. Seeing the demon made his belly flutter and when he was gone, his heart ached. He’d never put the feelings together, never needed to. In his mind, it was the love one feels for a close, dear friend. Ignoring the jealousy that gnawed at him when a human dared to lend an appreciative eye towards the demon. He’d blame thwarting lust, but had he just looked deeper, he’d have truly known his own heart.

Crowley made no effort to repair the broken glasses, sighing, the angel waved a hand and up came the broken accessory good as new. He handed them wordlessly to his companion, stealing one more glance at his yellow eyes. Had he been aware of his feelings, he would have noticed the quickened pace of his own heart and the longing that lay visible in those golden depths.

Aziraphale; uncomfortable and flustered, focused his mind back on the novel in hand, reading each word carefully, allowing himself to be transported to another world. 

Crowley, on the other hand, just wished to be free of the damned carriage long enough to sort himself out. His mind kept drifting to the angel to his left, still shaken from their earlier interaction and the warmth pressed against his side. The outside world holds no interest to him as they traveled the long road from London to Blackford. 

As they arrived closer to their destination, an accidental brushing of hands caused both to jerk away as if burned. The sensation coursing through Aziraphale was unmistakable. As he looked at his dear friend, he realized, to his horror, he’d fallen in love with the demon at some point. Finally putting the last piece of the puzzle together, what he'd been feeling was so much more than the love one had for a dear friend. 

It had been so easy, so very easy to love Crowley. He suspected he’d been doing it much longer than even he realized. He’d always been special to him; a feeling of unadulterated joy had taken him their second meeting in the Garden.

The morning after they were banished from the garden, he’d come back to see if Adam and Eve were still standing, searching from his post on the massive wall surrounding the lush Garden, they were. Not long afterward, Aziraphale had come across the demon Crawley, he’d been taken aback by the familiarity that washed over him. He implicitly trusted him, he liked the demon. He was interesting and friendly. Their acquaintanceship turned into a friendship and before he realized it, something more. Just unspoken, kept close to his heart for fear of retribution. 

He never stood a chance. Now here he was, pining for a demon for God knows how long, completely unaware until the most inopportune moment as currently, he could feel every inch of Crowley's form pressed against his side.

Crowley had known for years, millennia if he were being honest, that he was very much in love with his best friend. He'd been incredibly stupid to allow himself to ride with Aziraphale, much less keep himself unguarded. Aziraphale had seen the emotions displayed so plainly in his eyes, Crowley knew it. He never could conceal his feelings, especially where Aziraphale was concerned. 

Once they finally reached their inn, the two celestial beings made their way to their rooms and settled in for the evening. Both refusing to acknowledge the other, needing time to think and come to terms with the events of their journey.

An angel and a demon sat on their separate beds, in their separate rooms, wishing for a resolution to their longing. 

The angel in question couldn't stop pondering when he first began to feel this way, uncertain of the implications of his feelings. the consequences of acting on these feelings would be dire. He could fall, or worse, Crowley could die. Heaven wouldn't allow him to have this, it was wrong. It went against everything he'd been taught. 

Aziraphale was sure, there was no question about it, if the demon happened to return his sentiments, heaven would undoubtedly step in and take care of the problem permanently. Unwilling to allow another angel to fall, they'd lost too many of their flock already. 

Crowley knew that there was no way in hell his sentiments would be returned. He had been discovered and his arrangement, his friendship; his only friendship, would be destroyed. He would be alone and worse, he'd be unable to bask in the warmth of Aziraphale's light. The world would be too cold for him, too harsh. He didn't want to be in a world without the angel. 

Worse, if heaven found out that Aziraphale had been allowing a demon to bask in his presence, Aziraphale could fall. He'd die before he allowed that to happen. He could take what hell dished out, he was strong, and he’d likely had worse during his stay in hell. If Aziraphale were to fall, hell would punish him gravely for not joining the rebellion, for being unwilling to follow their master. They’d ruin Aziraphale, and there’d likely be nothing he could do to stop it. The thought was too much to bear, he'd lie, pretend his heart didn't beat for the angel, that his soul didn't feel whole again when he saw the angel smile. He'd done it for this long, he'd pretend and Aziraphale would be safe. 

By the time supper rolled around, each was steadfast in their ability to withstand even the most tempting of moments. Sure that they could resist to protect the other. 

How wrong they were.

Dinner went smoothly, it was a feast of baked fish, potatoes and carrots. Fresh loaves of bread and jams were spread out over the table and the spiced wine filled their glasses. They ate to their stomach’s content. Which meant, Aziraphale ate and Crowley picked at the bread and jams, preferring the sweet, softness of bread and jam than anything too hard to digest. 

After dinner, both seemed to have settled their uncertainties. Wine had a way of calming the mind, unbeknownst to the other, the same fears and worries had been running through their head. As such, pleasantly tipsy and content, they decided on a walk to stretch their legs and to give them a chance to enjoy the countryside. Living in the city gave little opportunity to enjoy the company of the stars. 

The night air was cool, the taste of wine still fresh on their tongue and the crisp scent of autumn permeated their senses. 

The small inn was nestled on a hilltop with a long winding path that led to a small bench atop a neighboring hill. The night was lit by the pale moon and starlight. With them, the demon had smuggled out a bottle; or two, of the wine they’d enjoyed so much at dinner.

The old friends chatted idly as they strolled the well-worn path, ignoring steadfastly the ache growing between their ribs. 

By the time they reached the end of their path, both Aziraphale and Crowley were drunk. Uninhibited by the restraints of their brain, leaving only their hearts to think for them. 

On a bench in Blackford, a demon and an angel sat under the starlight, huddled close together, their body heat mingling. Each gazing up at the beauty of the sky, basking in their closeness. 

Crowley, unable to take in the beauty of his oldest friends, his creations, cautiously took off his dark glasses once more. refusing to make eye contact with the angel, only allowing himself to take in the beauty of the night. He was overwhelmed with emotion, the twinkling light of the stars reflected in his eyes, and for one moment he was back in heaven, light, and color bursting forth from his essence, his love for her erupting from within. 

Aziraphale smiled, for once, his friend had taken off those pesky lenses, his eyes now for the second time that day unshielded and open for his viewing. They were beautiful he thought, so full of emotion, filled with a longing for the stars he'd once created. He knew of course, who Crowley had been in heaven, he'd made galaxies and nebula. Created beauty from nothing, forever banished from his creations. cursed to only view them from Earth. 

The moonlight reflected in his auburn hair, giving him a halo. He could almost remember the angel he was before. A name on the edges of his memory. 

Crowley felt the gaze of Aziraphale and turned his head to the side, willing himself to be vulnerable once more, confident through drink and hope.

Crowley glanced at him and smiled, full and content. 

Aziraphale stared, wide-eyed at the demon. 

Soul meeting soul. 

His heart raced, fluttered and ached. God did it ache.

There was an emptiness in his heart, his very being that longed so deeply for the demon. A longing that had been there for so long, in secret meetings and dinners. In comradery, in laughs and friendly touches. 

How had he only just realized today? 

Who moved first, they didn’t know. Their lips slid together, Crowley’s hands holding Aziraphale’s face, grasping desperately as the angel’s hands mirrored the demon’s.

Unwilling to let go, if they did, the moment would be ruined, and reality would call them back. 

The kiss deepened, the taste of sweet wine on their lips as tongues danced and hands burned memories onto the flesh below.

They were lost in their emotions, lost in their love for one another, they were cresting a waterfall and diving headfirst.

Faint recollections of fear twirled in their distant memory. 

Two beings clung to one another, unwilling to break the moment as teeth clashed against teeth, as lips were bruised, and bodies came dangerously close to entwining.

They were lost in each other and desperate for more. 

A branch snapped in the distance, pulling both men apart, panting and aching.

they looked around to see if they’d been caught, worry filling their hearts and mind. 

Had they been spotted? 

Did their sides know? 

Worry turned to remorse, unable to fully look at the other without their hearts longing to reach out to the other, knowing full well the moment had ended. 

Aziraphale was the first to speak, his voice deep and uneven, “We should… ah, we should sober up now Crowley.”

The demon nodded, reluctant to feel the weight of the moment. 

“I, ngk… I, that was… ” he trailed off, a worried hope lingering in his chest. They couldn’t do this again, the taste of him still fresh in his mouth. He so longed for the angel to burry himself within him, to kiss and become one and to never let him go.

To be done with Heaven or Hell. To just belong to the other. 

Crowley could see the resignation in Aziraphale's expression. 

It was over. 

Aziraphale looked up at the sky, “We can’t do this again Crowley, if our sides found out…” he looked at the demon, his eyes wet with emotion, “best we just forget about this and do what we intended to do here”

Crowley couldn’t deny he was correct in his assessment, but it didn’t mean he wanted to accept it.

Not yet, not when he'd had everything he'd longed for. 

“Maybe,” he ran his fingers through his auburn hair, “Nothing happened angel, what if… what if they don’t know. We could, urgh” he moaned. “I want to be with you Aziraphale. Now that I know what you taste like, I cannot be parted from you. I…”

“Don’t. Please don’t, Crowley, I could not bear it for the world. Please, I… know, but to hear you say it or heaven forbid, say it aloud myself, it will be real, and we can’t.”

He reached up to cup the demons face, “You are so very precious to me my dear.” Leaning over, his softly kissed his closed eyes before nuzzling the soft skin of his face then standing, turning and walking abruptly away leaving Crowley on the bench to watch him leave. 

For the rest of their trip, they refused to talk about what had happened.

Unwilling to be in his presence longer than needed, Crowley left before he could tempt the man, marking it as a failure due to the thwarting of an angel. 

He made his way home alone, and when Hell came for him to distribute his punishment for failure, he willingly went, too numb to protest.

The punishment, a sobering reminder of what could happen if they knew. 

He buried his love deep within him, too deep to be used against him. 

When he returned a few weeks later, he made sure not to make that mistake again. Unable to stomach the reality of what could happen if he did, visions of Aziraphale burning in hellfire, reduced to ash flitting through his mind. 

They had that moment, and it would be enough. 

The fear that hell would come for them, for him wouldn't leave him alone. 

He needed a way to protect them. 

A way to make sure hell or heaven could not use him to get to Aziraphale.

Three months later, he arrived at St. James Park, the angel looked no worse for wear than the last time he’d seen him. 

He wished he could say the same. He needed his help, hell had tortured him, and he knew with little uncertainty that they would come again, and one day, he’d need insurance. 

He hoped Aziraphale would understand, he never would have asked otherwise. “Look, I’ve been thinking. What if it all goes wrong? We’ve got a lot in common, you and me…” said Crowley.

The angel glanced at him, “we may both have started out as angels, but you are fallen.” What was he playing at? 

“I didn’t really fall. I just, you know, sauntered vaguely downwards. I need a favor.”

Aziraphale hoped he wouldn't bring it up, he'd made his peace. They couldn't have more, no matter how much they both wished it. “We already have the agreement, Crowley. We stay out of each other’s way.” Sometimes that is, “lend a hand when needed…” Heaven did he wish he could just hold his hand. 

Something felt wrong. Something was pulling at his gut, fear gnawing its way out. 

The demon persisted, “this is something else. For if it all goes pear-shaped.”

“I like pears.” He sighed. He could feel the fear spread throughout him. 

Crowley pushed onwards, his heart racing, fear of hell coming again, of them finding out about their arrangement or his angel. “If it all goes wrong. I want insurance.”

This caught him off guard, insurance? “… What?”

“I wrote it down. Walls have ears. Not walls. But trees have ears. Ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears? Must do. That’s how they hear other ducks.” He pulls out a slip of paper and handed it to Aziraphale. It was done, he'd asked. 

He could keep them safe. 

He would keep him safe. 

He just needed this one thing from Aziraphale, then it would be fine.

Aziraphale couldn't believe what was written on the paper, anger and hurt flood him. “Out of the question.” 

Like hell, he'd give him that. 

He could have asked him for anything but that. 

Crowley was never cruel to him, but to ask him of that? 

Crowley hadn't expected him to say no, it made perfect sense as to why he would ask him. “Why not?”

Did he think so very little of him that he’d ask him to aid him in his destruction? Was this punishment for those few months ago? A plea for attention or worse, a way out because he’d broken his heart? “It would destroy you. I’m not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley.”

What? The demon didn’t understand how it had gotten so out of hand, “that’s not what I want it for. Just… Insurance…”

His chest was aching, and he was beginning to get angry, did he think him so stupid to… “I’m not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I’d get into if they knew I’d been fraternizing? It’s completely out of the question.”

Was that what he wanted to call it? After everything they’d been through, “Fraternizing?” it hurt more than he’d expected.

Aziraphale needed to leave, he needed to leave quickly. “whatever you wish to call it. I do not think there is any point in discussing it further.”

The demon was furious, “I have lots of other people to fraternize with, angel.” He’d be damned if he ever fraternized with him again. They could have the agreement and nothing else. Period.

“Of course, you do.”

That bastard, thought Crowley, “I don’t need you.”

But he did, he always needed him. His company, his smile, his laugh.

He needed to leave, this had gotten ridiculously out of hand and he needed to fix his breaking heart, he couldn’t handle much more of this, “The feeling is mutual, obviously.”

He stalked away, throwing the paper into the pond, burning it as it hit the water. 

As he leaves, he hears Crowley mockingly say “Obviously.” 

If he chooses to end his life; end it for good, he won’t have any part in it. 

Back in his shop, the Angel collapses into his chair. It feels as if a hole has been ripped through his heart. 

His mind was racing, unsure of what exactly had just transpired but wishing desperately to forget it. 

Had he hurt him so badly he wanted to die? How could Crowley leave him in such a way, and worse, how could he ask that of him? It was cruel, even for a demon.

And now… now what exactly? He likely hated him now, he’d been cruel. Purposefully so. Biting and allowing the heartache he felt to cut Crowley with his words. Instead of listening to him, asking why he needed it, he’d snapped at him and left. 

  
Over the next months; he looked for him, half expecting him to come through the door. After a year he became worried he’d found a way to obtain the holy water. His presence hadn’t been felt in some time but something deep within him reassured him that Crowley wasn’t dead. He was sure he would know… but what if?

What if?

The thought didn’t bear thinking of. The doubt, however, lingered. 

Could he have done it?

He decided to search, he had no idea where Crowley was living these days. An intrusive voice in the back of his head reminded him he’d never asked. Crowley always came to him, and now he was at the very least avoiding him. 

The angel searched for his dear friend, his heart. Stalking London by night until he found the smallest sliver of his aura.

It felt… off.

Had he tried and failed? Only to suffer for this long until he found him?

Aziraphale flew past the valet and rushed up the stairs, using a miracle to open the door to his apartment. It was mostly empty; it reminded him a bit too much of heaven. 

It wasn’t what he expected, it was styled in the way most bachelor quarters were, but more minimalistic. A few paintings hung around the dark room and there was a throne that looked vaguely like one he’d seen somewhere before. 

To his relief, he found him asleep in the bedroom, buried under silken blankets and soft pillows.

He was whole, he was safe, and he was most certainly dead to the world and seemed as if he would be for a while. 

He cast a quick miracle to ward the room, he wondered if Crowley would notice when he woke, the presence of his power. A heavenly aura in his demonic domain. 

Aziraphale itched to place a kiss on his forehead, to brush the long, shaggy hair away from his eyes. 

He left instead and didn’t return. 

It would be nearly 80 years before he came face to face with Crowley again. 

During an unending war. 

In the Blitz. 

In a church. 

He’d save him and Aziraphale would save him in return. Protect him from the shattering holiness around them. 

He’d be handed back his books and he’d know he had been forgiven. 

They would fall back into a routine, dinners and walks through St. James Park. 

Each pushing forward, resolute to ignore the past and take the moments they could steal. 

More time would pass. 

A heist gone wrong and the birth of the Antichrist. 

Eleven more years would pass. 

Then…

They’d done it.

Against all odds, they’d survived.

Back in his home, back in his newly restored bookshop, a demon and an angel are getting drunk.

A bottle of wine is passed between them.

Aziraphale knows it’s time. Time to breach the subject. The potential hangs in the air around them and it hurts. 

He’s so scared to ask if Crowley feels it too, instead, he will show him. 

Resolute in his decision, Aziraphale stands up and wordlessly tugs Crowley to follow.

Up the stairs and into his rarely used flat above his bookshop, through the hall and into his bedroom, then through another doorway and up another set of stairs Crowley didn’t know existed. 

The roof. The space is small, convinced to exist not long after he returned from that fateful trip. 

A way for him to exist in that moment a little longer when the nights were too lonely to bear. There were a frightfully familiar bench and a view too perfect for the location. 

Despite the bright city lights, stars can be seen twinkling above, the starlight above them and the bright moon remind them both of another night so very long ago.

They stand there, Crowley’s hand warm in his own. A pleasant tingle of warmth and a haze of drunkenness assures him this will be fine. A happier ended for them both. 

No more quiet longing. 

“Oh, my darling,” says Aziraphale as he drunkenly pulls Crowley closer by his hand. He stiffens at first, unsure of what’s happening, only to catch on and lean in to nuzzle the flesh beneath his jaw.

“Hm, my love.” His hands move into auburn hair and tug.

“You have been so brave, so good.” He presses a kiss to the tattoo above his temple. 

“You are so loved.”

He looks up at him for a moment, his expression one of surprise and elation. 

A nod. 

“So very loved, my dearest.”

A dam breaks, there is a flurry of hands and teeth and in the starlight, atop an old bookshop in SoHo, a demon and an angel confess to one another without any more words. 

A tartan blanket is laid out beneath them thanks to Aziraphale’s quick thinking as clothes are shed. 

Each item carefully removed, much to the displeasure of his dearest one. He tries to slow them down. 

A kiss to his chest, a whisper of affection across his hip. There isn’t any rushing anymore but as much as he wishes to prolong this moment, he knows they have both been patient and have waited long enough. 

With Crowley beneath him, naked and flushed, he can’t help it. His heart is full to bursting and he needs him to know how loved he is. 

The demon writhes beneath the angel as he peppers kisses on his chest, he has a light dusting of red hair in the middle of his chest and the most charming freckle on his hip bone. 

“Aziraphale, another time. Please.” 

He nods. 

His lips close around his nipple, and the demon whimpers with need. 

Hands claw at his bare back as he nips his way down his beloved’s body. 

Crowley’s hands grip him as if he is trying and failing to ground himself against the onslaught of pleasure and emotion. 

His cock is erect and straining desperately proud against the ginger curls there. He runs a soft finger along the ridge of him before leaning down to taste him.

First, a tiny flick of the lounge, then suddenly, his mouth his on him.

The pleasure is almost too much, Crowley offers a strangled “Angel!” in return. Gasping and shuddering with the sensations.

Soon, he is working a single finger into the demon. Fingers slick with warm oils. 

It’s nearly too much for him to take, his heart is pounding, and he can feel his orgasm building. 

Aziraphale adds another finger, stretching him, then another. His mouth still working the demon’s hard shaft. 

He pulls away just in time, earning a choked “bastard,” from his lover.

Aziraphale chuckles warmly, pleased with the wanton mess he has created of his dearest. He nudges the demon’s legs apart before settling in between, he sweetly kisses the juncture of his neck before kissing his lips once more as they join.

He is slow; achingly so, inch by inch he allows the warmth of his beloved envelop him. 

It’s all-consuming. 

It feels as if their essences are mingling. 

He thinks it cliché how it feels as if they are one being, their fates have been entwined for so long, it merely feels like the final part of their long journey. 

Eternity is before them. 

He opens himself to Crowley, and in return, he is granted the same. 

He is overwhelmed.  
He feels Crowley’s pain, the pain of falling and of losing him. 

Not once, but time and time again. 

All the times he’d denied him, all the times he’d left him. 

The still-raw wound of losing him, however brief it may have been, left a traumatic imprint on his soul. 

An all-consuming fear and overwhelming loss. 

The angel comforts him and soothes the aches of his soul.

He kisses him deeply; one arm propping him up, the other tangled in that beautiful hair of his. 

He pours himself and his love into the kiss, opening himself to allow him to feel it, to immerse himself in it. 

He can feel it building quickly, the heat and friction on his cock as he moves. The way Crowley’s face is buried in his shoulder as he whimpers and moans. 

He moves an arm between them; careful not to fall or lose rhythm and grasps his erection, stroking him in time with his movements. 

Crowley shouts as his orgasm rushes through him, his own following shortly as he empties himself into his lover. 

He realizes he is pressed completely against Crowley, still partially buried in him, his head tucked into the cradle of his neck. 

He takes the opportunity to press a hot kiss to the demon’s neck and breathes deeply. 

“I do love you, Crowley, so very much. I’m sorry it took this long for me to accept… for making you wait.” 

“I know you do, I have for a long time. You were just scared.”

“You forgive too easily, my love.”

He’s silent, this is the happiest he’s been in so long. 

Content in the afterglow of his orgasm, warm from the angel still pressed tightly against him with the stars flickering brightly above them. 

He pulls the blanket around them, scared to get up or move and break the spell. 

He couldn’t take it if he left again. 

“I love you too, have for so long I don’t remember a time when I didn’t.” 

One arm is trapped by the angel, his other is drawing long-forgotten symbols of affection on his shoulder blade. 

“I thought you’d gotten over me you know, moved on. Then you saved my books and I knew you weren’t lost to me.” 

He sighed, “Aziraphale, there is nothing you could do to make me stop loving you. You’ve hurt me, I won’t lie and say you haven’t… but I do love you. Regardless of what you’ve said or done, it never faltered. I just thought it would be my burden to bear.” 

“I’m sorry. It’s unforgivable but I feared what loving you could do. I was so scared of Heaven finding out, of making me fall or of killing you. They could have destroyed you if they knew. I did try, to forget you. While you slept, I found you and it hurt. I threw myself into other lovers and anything else I could do to make me forget the way you tasted on my lips and how you felt against me.”

“We are on our own side now, remember? There isn’t anything to keep us apart.”

Aziraphale moved to wrap his arms around Crowley, the blanket sheltering them from the cool night air, their bodies warm and relaxed. 

“Our own side.” He said as he sleepily pressed another kiss to Crowley’s temple before drifting off to sleep, exhausted from everything that had happened in the last 48 hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr! AziraphalesRareBooks 
> 
> I take Prompts!


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